


Filled Up with Noise

by Ruikumo



Series: All I Need [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, kissing cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruikumo/pseuds/Ruikumo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't get any big ideas; it's not going to happen. Now that you've found it, it's gone. Now that you feel it, you don't. You've gone off the rails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by "Nude" by Radiohead. Look up the lyrics if you like, you might appreciate the context.

It started with the smallest of gestures. At the end of a training session, you extended a hand to help her up, just as you had dozens, maybe hundreds of times before. This time, though, as she took your hand, her eyes swept up to meet yours and held them. This time, she held your hand for a moment after she stood. Her lips, slightly parted, curled up at the corners. Her voice, soft and breathy from exertion, sounded at once as distant as from down a hall and as close as a whisper next to your cheek. You heard her say, "Thank you, Neji-nii-san," and at the same time, you felt her hand squeeze your own.

Then your hand was released, and you saw her back as she turned easily to pick up her pack. You saw the casual motion of her shoulders as she slung the pack up, and the swing of her long hair as she pulled it out of the way and then turned back to look at you, eyebrows quirked a little curiously. You realized that you were standing stock-still with your mouth half open, which no Hyuuga has any business doing at any time, but especially not you, and especially not for so little provocation as this.

You closed your mouth and picked up your own bag and walked up to join her in returning home. She smiled up at you with her usual simplicity and good humor, and made some remark - maybe it was about the training exercise, or about her progress, or even about the weather - and you replied with your usual monosyllabic agreement. You heard and processed the remark at the time, but you can't remember what she said afterwards, because somehow between the training ground and your own door, your ears filled with a dull roar, like a mistral through the forest.

You realized sometime later that you were lying on your bed staring glassily at the ceiling, with no memory of lying down, or of putting down your bag, or of opening and closing your door. You came to yourself with a jolt, with no idea of the time, and sat up, scrambling for your bedside clock. After staring at it for a moment and doing some confused calculations, you figured that you must have been lying there for an hour and a half. Your stomach growled and you sighed and moved to the kitchenette to make yourself something to eat.

It was really not a good day for you, though, because your mind drifted out of reality again, and was recalled only by the hissing of water hitting flames as the pot of soba you were cooking boiled over, making a starchy mess on the stove. Sighing again, you shut off the fire and picked up the pot, stirring the sticky clump that was partly stuck to the bottom of the pot. Exasperated, you scraped the noodles out into a colander, ran cold water through them, and dumped them into a bowl. You sat down at the kitchen table with the bowl and a bottle of soy sauce, because you were too hungry to wait for the broth that you had meant to start at the same time as the noodles, but forgot all about. You poured sauce over the noodles and dug in, but it was the least satisfying bowl of soba that you had ever eaten, salty, gummy, partly mushy and partly crunchy. You were in a rage with yourself, mouth stuffed with a wad of noodles that was sticking to your teeth, when you heard a tap at your door and a soft voice calling your name. You swallowed the salty lump hastily and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, standing and moving to the door.

You opened the door, and there she was, the reason for all this distraction and discomfort, but you couldn't feel angry with her, because she was smiling appealingly at you, and holding a plate with half a dozen onigiri that you could smell even before she held them up for your inspection. They had extra, she explained. Would you like to eat them?

You would, of course, so you stepped aside and invited her in, gesturing to the low table in the living area so that she wouldn't catch sight of that embarrassing mess that you cooked for yourself. She stepped in, slipping off her shoes, and placed the plate on the table. You noticed the smooth curves of her calves below the hems of her capri pants and the adorable creases that appeared in her ankles as she flexed her feet, seating herself. You sat down next to her and invited her to eat with you, so she took an onigiri and nibbled at it to keep you company, even though she had already eaten. The onigiri were delicious, and you were so hungry that you were having a hard time not wolfing them down. Neither of you said anything for awhile, but you watched her out of the corner of your eye, and her eyes roved around the room as she nibbled, and you remembered that she had spent very little time in your small abode, so naturally she was curious about it.

She noticed that you were watching her and smiled a little shyly at you. Then her eyes lit up with amusement and she giggled outright. She laid down her onigiri and put out a small hand to your face, and you were so surprised that you simply froze while she rubbed at the corner of your mouth with her thumb. She had leaned toward you a bit to brush the food from your mouth, and the soft, pretty curve of her jaw was turned toward you. Without thinking, you put out your own hand to cup her cheek in your palm. Her eyes turned toward you in surprise and you felt her catch her breath as your eyes met.

Your eyes held each other for long moments. Hers were surprised, questioning, wondering. Slowly, you stroked the arch of her cheekbone with your thumb, and her eyes fluttered. Ever so slowly, she brought her other hand up to yours on her cheek and touched it softly. Ever so slowly, you leaned forward, watching her face, her eyes lowered, her lips parted slightly as the breath escaped from them shallowly. When you were so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from her forehead with your own, you paused, and her eyes raised and met your own. What you saw there released you from your hesitation. You moved forward, tilting your head, and touched her lips with your own. They were soft and warm and trembled against your mouth, and your heart pounded, and your mind saw visions. After a moment, you became aware of a hand holding the folds of your shirt tightly and of her breath coming fast against your cheek. You breathed in quickly and parted just a bit so you could look in each other's eyes. Dreamily, you both leaned forward again and kissed once more. You were aware only of the velvety feel of her lips and the sweet scent of her hair.

You parted again to gaze at her. Her eyes fluttered and slowly regained focus. As they sharpened, amazement and confusion crept in, and her face flushed. She released her hold on your shirt and slipped out of your hands, covering her mouth with her hand and looking at you with wide eyes.

You extended a hand and opened your mouth, without knowing what you meant to say. She bowed her unbelievably red face to you and whispered, "Excuse me, I - I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to -" Then bringing her panicked eyes up to yours for the briefest of moments, she ducked her head again and fled in a whirl of hasty feet.

Too dazed and weak-kneed to move or say a word, you gaped at the door through which she had just passed, until your stomach growled loudly. You looked down at the plate and mechanically began to eat again. You came to the end of the onigiri and picked up the one that she had left on the table, staring at the half-eaten end for long moments. Finally, you lifted it to your mouth and took a big bite from where she had nibbled and rolled it over and over in your mouth with your tongue. You did the same with the next bite, and the next, and then wolfed the rest of it down, hardly chewing before swallowing. When it was all done, you felt full but not satisfied. There was a heavy feeling in your belly and an itchy, crawling warmth lower down. You stood up and stared at the door again. You wanted to walk through that door, stride across the open courtyard, and then stalk through the vast main manor until you found her, pulled her soft curves against your lean musculature, and pressed your mouth to every bit of her that she would allow. Gasping harshly, you turned instead to the open window on the opposite side of the house, leapt out of it onto the roof of the next house, ran along the ridgepole, and then leapt up to the outer wall of the estate. You dropped down and ran to the nearest training ground, where you assaulted a training dummy until it was pulverized and your chakra nearly exhausted. By that time, the sky was inky black and you returned to your home wearily, soaked your sore muscles in a warm bath, almost fell asleep in the tub, got out, dried off, and really did fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next time you encountered each other, she was awkward and red-faced and you were awkward and stiff, but neither of you said anything about it. You continued to be awkward and not say why, but you also took to shadowing her at every available moment. If you knew she was in her bedroom, you would sit on the porch outside. If she was in the garden, you would be in the courtyard across. If she was in the dojo, you would be meditating in the rock garden nearby. You tried to erase your presence and make your chakra invisible, but at the same time, you knew that she knew you were there. In the back of your mind, you wondered if she felt that you were hounding her, but you were too far gone to really consider that possibility.

At night, when the household had gone to bed, you slipped up to the roof and moved silently from house to house until you were over her bedroom. There you laid, dreaming wakefully, until agitation forced you to leap back over the wall and flee to the training ground, where you punished your body until exhaustion would let you sleep. You knew what you wanted, and you knew it was out of your reach. That was all, and that was enough.


	2. Chapter 2

For a few weeks, you manage to avoid her eyes and her words. You haunt her around the family estate and pretend that you are escaping her notice. You spend every night on the roof above her bed until the itch to join her makes you flee to a place where you can wear out your frustrations. It takes less time to wear them out than that first time, because you're losing ground, although you don't want to acknowledge it. You want to believe that you're wrestling your impulses into submission, but really, you're just beating your body to hell, and people start to notice. Your teammates say that you don't look well, and suggest visiting a doctor. Your sensei says that you mustn't let your springtime of youth expire before its time, and suggests various food pills and herbal supplements. Hiashi-sama says that you must be taking on too much of the responsibility of your missions, and suspends your training with him, ordering you to get more rest. You have a small feeling of regret about that, but at the same time, you're glad because you're afraid that one day he's going to look into your eyes and see all of your thoughts about his daughter.

You do, in fact, get a bit more rest. Concerned parties conspire for it, and you're so tired, you accept their good will and use it for meditation and naps in the afternoon. You even take some of the herbal supplements. You're still compelled to visit her roof every night, and you still run out to the training ground after, but you don't spend hours there, and you manage to get more than a few hours of sleep at night. You think that perhaps you are sliding into a new equilibrium. Then she tracks you down one morning and insists that you resume your one-on-one training with her. You're shocked for a number of reasons - you were so sure that she wanted to avoid you that you didn't expect her to seek you out; it's been so long since you've actually seen her face, and she looks so fresh and pretty with her hair shining in the morning sun; the last time you met each other she was beet-faced and had her eyes lowered, and now she is looking you straight in the eye without a hint of a blush. You recognize the firm set of her lips and the lift of her chin and realize there's no getting out of it.

You bow your acknowledgment of her will - the root of all of your training sessions together, and in fact, all of the time that you've spent together, ever - and she bows her thanks and goes on her way. As she walks away, you watch her back and feel a little bit...happy. You've missed her. Ghosting her presence has been no substitute for actually seeing her face and hearing words directed at you.

You go to the practice ground that afternoon and find her already waiting for you. She seems a little nervous, but she's also _watching_ you. Her eyes look as hard and direct as you've ever seen them. You're completely unaccustomed to being sized up by her, of all people, and it puts you off your rhythm immediately. You're already awkward because it's been so long since you've followed this old routine. You try to redirect the flow by starting with form training, so that she is the one under scrutiny. But that means you have to touch her. And you feel her eyes on you all the time, not withstanding when you turn her head to face front and tell her to keep her eyes on her opponent. You can tell she's evaluating _you_ , while you are ostensibly evaluating her form. It unnerves you. You rush through form training so that you can work out your agitation in a spar, so that you can catch her off-balance, so that you can get her to stop thinking of you as a quantity to be measured, but rather as a danger to be feared.

The spar is good. You feel more in control. The break from training has not done her any favors. She seems less sharp than you remember, but she responds to the challenge well, surprisingly well. She gets back up to the level that you had expected very quickly. No longer pushed back on her heels, a different look appears in her eyes. The look bothers you. It is a look compounded of different emotions, and you recognize part of it as the kind of excitement that you feel when facing a worthy opponent. But it's the other part that bothers you, and you recognize it, too - the look she gave you when you paused with your lips mere inches away from hers. That look made you move ahead instead of back, and you remember that you were not the only one who moved forward for the kiss. A slow anger burns up from the pit of your stomach and you taste bitter acid on the back of your tongue. As you strike, parry, and turn, the look persists and so does the burn. You knock her back, and she stumbles but does not fall. You rush her, and her eyes widen, disrupting the look that perturbs you.

On your approach, she does something unexpected; rather than merely parry or dodge, she tries to redirect your energy into an arm lock, a move that is not Jyuken at all, but simply ordinary taijutsu. It's not entirely successful and she ends up being entangled as well. A laugh escapes from you, dispelling your tension. Her expression of embarrassed bewilderment adds fuel to the fire and you snort and chortle, wriggling free and bending over to catch your breath. Recovering your composure, you look up and say, "If you are going to do an arm lock, Hinata-sama, you need to strike me first."

Her smile is embarrassed, but her eyes sparkle with laughter as she replies, "Yes, I knew I had forgotten something." You smile at each other for a moment, and then that look appears in her eyes again - that look of yearning, directed at you. Your anger sparks into flame once more, and you lower your head, your face fiery.

"Why do you look at me so?" The question grinds itself out through your gritted teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her feet shuffle and her hands clutch each other, but receive no reply. You throw your head up and charge her, grasping her shoulders with both hands. Your eyes glare down at her wide ones. "Why do you look at me with those eyes?"

She is pale, her shoulders tremble in your grasp, but her voice is steady, though soft. "What do my eyes tell you?"

"They tell me that you want me," you say, voice low and gravelly.

Pink blooms across her cheekbones. Her lips twitch and her hands move up and grasp the folds of your tunic above your heart. "Yes," she says, in that same soft, steady voice. "I do."

You push her away, so that she skitters back. "How can you tell me such a thing? I know that you love Naruto!"

Her luminous eyes do not waver as she looks back at you. "I admire Naruto-kun. But I love you, Neji-nii."

You notice that she doesn't call you nii-san. The casual intimacy makes your ears burn. But you refuse to be convinced. "How can you say so! Such stories do not become you, Hinata-sama."

The thin arch of her brow creases. "Do you really not believe me?" She frowns at you in puzzlement and you know what she is saying. On any ordinary day, you would say she was a terrible liar; her feelings show even when she tries to shutter her eyes and blank her face. But in this case, you can't believe her, because what she's saying is too much like a dream - too good to be real, too close to your heart's desire.

She advances on you, and you take a step back, in reflex. Her eyes spark with - what? - irritation, pain, longing, anger? She continues her advance, and you do not give any more ground, but lean away, your head turned to the side. She stops before you and you are surprised when her hand grabs your shirt and twists itself a little, holding on. "Please look at me, Neji-nii." You blink, but do not turn. Her hand twists a bit more, and tugs at you, and you can hear the urgency as her voice raises just a trifle. "Please look at me, Neji-nii."

Incredulously, you turn your head slowly to meet her eyes, which mirror back at you the frustration and yearning that you have been feeling. It is too much like a dream, her small hand pulling at you, her eyes pleading, her lips trembling. It is so much like a dream that you relent; if it is a dream, then you will indulge yourself, so you bend down and engulf her mouth with your own. The kiss is deep and open; your tongues tussle and rub; one hand squeezes the hair at the back of her head while your other hand wraps around her waist and pulls her close. Her hands pull at your shoulders, tangle in your hair, grip the back of your neck. You both gasp for air, then surge together again. Your hands are everywhere, raking down her back, tugging at the collar of her jacket, pulling at her zipper, and she shrugs fluidly, willingly, arching towards you so you can nip and suck at her collarbone and the upper swell of her breasts. You put your hands under her hips and lift her, and she wraps her legs around your waist and grinds into you, and you nearly lose your footing along with your mind. Your fingers pull her to you tightly and your lips and tongue make play over her neck and jaw. She whimpers and gasps softly, "We have to - ah - somewhere - n-not here -"

Growling with impatience, you activate the Byakugan while she clings to you, and see a hollow some 200 yards away, sheltered by a grassy hillock on one side, thick brush and trees all around. That will do. A quick shunshin carries you both there, where you lay her on the grass, and she pulls you down over her. Your hands move to relieve her of her jacket, out of which she slips easily. A small part of your mind is fascinated by the liquid movement of her joints, but the majority is occupied by her fingers unfastening your tunic and tugging it out of your pants, so it falls open like a tent around her. She sighs and reaches for you, wrapping her arms around your back, skin to skin, pressing her lips to your chest. It's too much and not enough; your skin burns and you throw off the tunic and work on ridding the rest of the clothes between you.

It's not a dream, you realize. It's much better than any dream, the silky whiteness of her skin, the heady bouquet of her hair, her ecstatic sighs, and her voice murmuring your name as she entwines her fingers in your hair. It takes a long time for your mutual passion to be spent. When you're finally sated, the sun glows redly low in the sky and little light filters through the leaf canopy of your temporary shelter. Her eyes close and she drowses with her head resting on your arm. You caress her cheek somberly. Doubts return about her feelings and motives. Her desire for you is sincere; it was your name and no one else's on her lips. You don't doubt that it was you captured in those pale luminous eyes and not an imagined other. But whether or not love was at the base of that passion, you are unsure. She seems to truly believe so. You wrap your arm around the curve of her back and pull her closer, deciding that that is good enough; more than you could have hoped for, all things considered. You won't ask any more questions or otherwise risk disturbing this fragile, miraculous good that has appeared in your life.

She stirs and looks up at you. She considers your face for a long moment. Her fingertips lightly trace the lines below your eyes. “What have you been doing to yourself?” she asks gravely.

The question takes you by surprise. “What?”

“I know you’ve been visiting me at night. What do you do after?”

Oh. You feel your face redden. “I come out here.”

She sighs deeply and a pained expression forms on her countenance. She loops her arms around your head and gently pulls you down to rest on her chest. Your hair slides through her fingertips as she caresses your neck and shoulders. “But you won’t anymore, right? If you need me, you’ll just come get me.”

Her words loosen some underlying tension in your body. You curl one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulder, and press a kiss to her sternum. "Yes," you reply. "I'll always come for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter posted! I'm not sure if there will be any more after this one. I'm strongly inclined to leave it at this. I know there are a number of angsty directions I could take this, but I don't want to retread ground that has been well covered by other authors, not unless I can think of an innovative angle to approach it from.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Update: I decided to end this story here and start a new one that connects to this one. The new story will be more of a drama/adventure thing than this angst/introspection. I'm calling the series "All I Need."


End file.
